Only Madness can kill a Dragon
by VenusJay
Summary: Viserys has made sacrifices in the name of their blood, it is now that such sacrifices become known.
1. Chapter 1

"Those do not belong to you."

Viserys was growing weary of hearing that voice. He had heard it so many times now as a whisper through his mind, 'that does not belong to you, you do not belong here'.

"To whom do they belong," he asked without turning. He no longer cared about what would happen in the end. Softly and so very affectionately he stroked the dragon eggs. They held colours almost impossible to describe, fearsome despite their dormancy. Each time he was near them he could almost feel Rhaegar beside him, like he once had been in the crypts with the dragon bones. Where once they had stood side by side and faced the extinction of dragon blood that was soon to turn their way. Viserys had asked him once if they were to meet the same fate. Rhaegar replied that 'fire cannot kill a dragon but madness can find a Targaereyn'.

"They were a gift to the Khaleesi."

"And is not what is hers also mine?"

Jorah simply stood in silence, his hand resting on the blade at his hip. Viserys knew Mormont's skill. He could be sliced to ribbons with one foul cut. He did not intend to die today and so he backed away from the eggs, his head bowed in supplication.

"Your sister has bought you an army at the cost of her dignity. Surely she ought to have something you cannot touch."

Viserys recoiled.

"Dignity? What about my dignity? She only has to spread her legs for one Dothraki, the King of the Dothraki no less! Where would we be if she had not? Continuing to run and hide, begging for every morsel!"

Jorah looked at him with a hardened expression. One that comes with years of never saying what you truly wish to say.

"The eggs remain with her."

"Fine! She can keep her damned eggs! She can have her savage husband and her barbarian servants. It's all I ever wanted for her, in a way," he laughed. "All I did so that she would have a home, people who adored her, who would die for her! Now she has a husband and slaves to comb her hair, what more could she need of me, Jorah? Why should she care," he shook his head in mock disbelief.

"You shame yourself, Viserys."

"I have no shame," he replied simply. "All of my pride is gone. My family are dead. Don't you see? She was all I had and she hates me. And I am the one who made it so! Do you think I could have handed her over to Khal Drogo if there had been love in her eyes for me? She is my sister, my lifeblood. She would have been my wife," he said with a sadness Ser Jorah could not have imagined him to possess.

"Do not speak of dignity to me. I know what I sent her to. We would not be alive if I had not accepted my duty and done the same myself."

Jorah looked at him for a long moment before asking.

"You sold yourself?"

"Of course I did," he snapped angrily, turning away from him. "Food does not come free and I wanted to keep both hands. She was a child! What else could I do? We could not eat rats forever."

"She knows?"

"No. And she will never know," he threatened though he was in no position to expect promises. "Let me pass. I will leave tonight."

"I do not advise such a thing."

"Your job is to advise my sister. I am beyond the help of your measly words. Now let me pass."

"She needs you here, Viserys."

"No," he replied, his eyes shining. "She is a Khaleesi. What use has a Khaleesi for a beggar lest a Beggar King."

With that, he stepped around Ser Jorah and left. He may have just imagined it but Jorah was almost sure one of the eggs had moved.


	2. Chapter 2

He had watched with quiet fascination as bright eyes looked up at him. He found the chubby little flailing legs to be so comical, each little toe seemingly holding a new flavour as they were each tasted in turn by the squirming infant. He was a man now and knew of course where babies came from but this was still so curious. Were dragon children born the same way? His father had often told him that Targareyns were forged in the fires of dragons, their eyes burned to the brightest opals that would forever reflect firelight. But this little baby was fat and seemingly stupid as it did nearly everything it could to get itself killed. It rolled over and couldn't turn back, it squawked and brought the attention of the dogs. All of this brought a protective feeling over him as he looked at his little sibling. This one still alive. Perhaps they were indeed a dragon.

His mother lifted the little bundle and snuggled it close. It was only a matter of time before it would be taken from her. He looked at his mother with sympathy for his father had already decided her to be unfaithful, the child's life under threat. The seventeen years from his own birth had been filled with still born children and miscarriages, early death and sickness. But this one lived and was so very beautiful.

"Would you like to hold the baby?"

"Yes."

He sat next to her amongst the folds of her gown and took the creature in his arms. He let it grasp at his hair and he thought to himself that he had never held something so irritatingly perfect. The tiny little nose and purple eyes, purple already! Whisps of white hair and a perfect cupid's bow mouth. He cooed at it and it smiled.

"Viserys," his mother said.

"Will he be a dragon?"

"He will."

"Like me?"

"Yes. You must help him to become strong. You must protect him. He is your blood."

"Will he be a King?"

"After you, yes."

Rhaegar flinched as the baby tugged his hair.

"What if he dies?"

"Then he will not be King."

"What if he does not wish to be King," he asked quietly, thinking less about little Viserys now.

"Then he is nothing."

* * *

The blonde locks were a tangle in his fingers. No matter how he tried, he could not master the art of braiding. They turned out misshapen on one side or too full on the other. She would have to make do as she was because they had more pressing issues to contend with. There were no other doors to knock and no more warm welcomes. They were alone and desperate and at that time Viserys cared little for the styling of his sister's hair besides trying to hide the dirt it contained. The only benefit of the grime was the anonymity it provided them, masking their white blonde locks but never hiding the violet eyes.

Together they headed out into the streets, Daenerys clinging to his neck, her small legs wrapped around his waist as she kept a look out for a potential meal. Sometimes they went days without food. They had been lucky of late with the recent rat epidemic.

Now, however, they were not so lucky. For half the day they searched the markets, finding nothing more than breadcrumbs that they ate with enthusiasm.

It grew dark and Daenerys had grown listless and pale in her hunger. Viserys found a prime location, climbing the multitude of steps to the large black door. He knew he had seen it somewhere before. He had always found that cleaner beggars made better fare so he had tried to make them as presentable as he could though he was nervous as they knocked. A large creak sounded as the door opened, a kindly man standing a head shorter than Viserys, looked at them with obvious concern.

"Might you have any charity for my sister and I?"

The man was of course surprised at the refined voice and sharp features.

"Charity? We don't do charity, boy."

"What about work? We could work for a meal!"

The man seemed to consider them both a long moment, appraising the sorry state of the little girl and the desperation in the young man's eyes.

"Come in."

Taking Dany's hand, they followed into the darkened corridors.

"Please, my sister is very tired. Is there somewhere she could rest?"

"Aye," the man said with a smile, showing them to a room with beautiful beds. Dany didn't complain about the other people already asleep there, they had stayed at Innhouses before and crawled onto the nearest one, glad of somewhere soft to sleep. She smiled at Viserys as she curled amongst the satin pillows.

"Stay here, Daenerys," he said sleepily. "I'll join you soon." Then he followed the man from the room, no doubt copying out letters and tax forms for the man. Viserys was very intelligent and always seemed to find work wherever they went. She worried for him though when he came back exhausted and his eyes puffy and red from working by candlelight for so long. She hoped they would let him rest tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

"I pledge my fialty to you, Queen Daenerys!"

She giggled as he kissed her cheek, the crown resting upon her head. It shone with what little light came through the archway and twinkled as the sgars above them. She looked down at her handsome brother and truly wished that they could find a way to have everything he dreamed about. She could not remember the home he spoke of but he made it seem so real to her. Looking into the polished glass she could see part of her reflecting. She looked very like her mother, so Viserys said. The sadness crept through everytime they did this but he insisted they must try to remember who they are, not common beggars. Dany didn't mind being a beggar, though in truth, she knew nothing of what it truly meant. For she was a beggar Queen, guarded by the hushed words of her brother.

He removed the crown then, placing it back in the ornate cloth and stroking it. He fell onto the bed then and kicked off his boots.

"Who's house is this?"

"A lord you would not remember. Not one I would wish to either," he pulled a face to make her laugh before holding out an arm for her to cuddle under.

"When I am King, I am to give him half of the northern lands for this one night! One night for half a landmass! Well I say this had better be the best bed for miles," he poked her stomach and she squirmed.

"Tell me about Rhaegar."

"What about him?"

"Tell me how about the dragons again."

And so he told her the tales he always had, of their brother's valliance and grace and how the dragons would rise once more.

"Can I be a dragon?"

"You already are."

"How can you tell?"

Viserys snorted.

"Because only dragons and men eat cooked meat. And unless you're hiding something from me, I've never seen someone turn their nose up so much at a free meal."

"There was still blood on the plate!"

"Then we mop it up with the bread like dripping," he teased, wide eyed and licking his lips. She make a retching noise in the darkness and buried her face under the sheets.

"We'll eat like royalty soon. Once I take back the Throne. You'll see. The only time we'll eat rat will be once a year on our name days."

"No Viserys! Why must we?"

"Because King's must remember where they came from, Dany."

"I thought we came from Dragon's?"

"Don't be stupid, we can't eat a dragon."

"We could try."

"Go to sleep."

"Rats eat people to, you know."

"Go to sleep, Dany."


	4. Chapter 4

This was desperation. One that sang of sweltering midday heat and festered rot and circled around the two little beggars. Viserys had sold the last of what he was willing to part with, their treasures and memories scattered around to become dusty relics. He held the crown close to him still. When his fingers traced over it, he could see his small and thin fingers that had peeled it away from his mother and as she lay cut from forehead to navel. He could not part with it for anything. This was what kept him going, knowing they truly were Targaereyns, noble and rightful heirs to the Throne. He would make Rhaegar proud of him.

Rhaegar would not be proud now, as Viserys shuddered in the freezing night air, robe clutching Dany's shoulders as tears streaked her face.

"I'm hungry," she had said tentatively, wary of angering him.

"I know. I'm sorry. Why don't we pretend what we'll eat when we're home?"

She didn't reply, only staring into the distance looking gravely ill. He hadn't seen his own reflection in quite some time but with the stares they received he imagined he must look particularly awful.

"Oi! What are you doing?"

The owner of the house they sat outside came to chase them off but Viserys was too defeated to move. He simply held Dany tighter and looked at her with defiance.

"This is private property," the woman glared at them, wondering if they were deaf or stupid.

"Isn't all property owned by someone, somewhere?"

"Yes but not by you. Now clear off!"

Just as Viserys stood from the shadows another woman appeared in the doorway. She clutched her companion's arm and nodded in his direction.

"Didn't you say this was just what we needed."

Viserys was in no mood for riddles.

"Come on, Dany."

"Do you want food, boy?"

He stopped when Daenerys squeezed his hand. Looking at her beautiful round eyes, he relented.

"What's the price?"

"No price," she said happily. "We'll pay you."

"Pay us to eat," he scoffed. "What kind of-"

He shut up quickly when a man almost twice his size stepped through the doorway.

"Causing trouble?"

"We were just leaving," he replied hastily, noting how the man's eyes lingered on his hair.

"Please can we have food," Dany asked him, innocent of the situation. It didn't take him long to realise that his pride could carry a price and that it would need to go. He would gladly sell that before the crown.

"You'll look after my sister," he asked the second woman, seemingly the kinder of the two.

"Like she was my own," she smiled and stepped aside for them both to enter. It was warm inside, fires lapping happily in little grates. The smell of something delicious licked at his tastebuds and it was comforting. There were more women who took Dany into one of the little rooms, reassuring him that she was safe, not something good people tend to argue with such force. The woman motioned for him to follow her and he tried to take in the shabby luxury surrounding him. There were fine silks and soft bedding strewn around, dishes of sweet meats and decanters of wine. She noted where his eyes lingered and she lifted the polished bronze plate of cakes, offering one to him. He was so hungry he was tempted to take her hand with it but this could bode well for them both if he played well.

"Is that all you have," he asked, fingers hovering over the moist cake, barely touching.

"For the moment, yes."

He withdrew his fingers, flashing her a smile he had known Rhaegar to perfect.

"You should save them, they are yours after all."

He knew by the quizzical expression she held that he had caught her off guard. He very much intended to play the game.

"You understand you will have to earn your keep here?"

"I do. Though I hope you understand that my sister is not included in the price."

"We do not harm children here."

Viserys nodded briefly, holding Himself as his father always taught him. Walk as though you are the dragon, the King. A King is just and powerful and he never begs, he bargains.

"When do I begin?"

"This night should you wish to stay. Mizarh will judge your skill and then you will serve wine until you learn."

Viserys felt strangely insulted.

"I am a quick learner."

"I am sure," she replied.

"But you will feed her," he asked, anxiety creeping into his words.

"She will eat, yes."

She fussed around small details then, lighting candles and burning incense. Viserys held his few belongings close, only hiding them once she had left the room. His mind was clouded with hunger and racing with fear. This was not what Kings did. Though he knew they strove towards the greater good. This was only temporary until they had enough to move on, to find their allies and gather their army. For now he would have to be smart, to find a strategy to keep himself and Dany safe. He tried to calm himself but jumped when a figure appeared in the doorway.

"You do not need to fear me," he said as he stepped into the candlelight. He was young, far younger than someone Viserys imagined would run a brothel. He could not say he thought him attractive. Viserys had never considered attraction towards anyone but Danaereys for when she would be his Queen but he supposed if this was to be his lot it wasn't starting off as horribly as he had first imagined. And after all, he was a dragon. And dragons cared nothing for pride or dignity, only fire.

"What is your name," the man asked him as he stepped closer, reaching for a cup on the table.

"You first," he replied, raising his chin in defiance. Only by playing a strategy could he know if it would work. The man looked up at him as he poured the wine.

"That is not how this works."

"I wouldn't be so certain about things that work or those that do not," he replied, his eyes gesturing down past the man's navel.

"You are funny," he said dryly, handing the cup to Viserys. "Drink. It is not poison."

"That is a matter of taste," he said smoothly. He began to realise he had made the right choice here. He was not going to be subservient. He would kneel to no one.

"Take off your clothes," the man named Mizarh commanded him.

"I will for a bath. And nothing less."

He thought he might strike him but Viserys found he didn't particularly care. Instead the man chuckled and nodded.

"Quite the prince."

"King," Viserys replied sternly.

"Do not go too far."

He watched in concealed amazement as a large brass tub was carried in, the men carrying it looking at Viserys in confusion. It took a long time for it to be filled and so Viserys tried very hard to seem uninterested in the whole affair. He knew he could not solve their situation by running away from money and shelter and food but perhaps if things were too awful he could at least leave having had a bath. Once more he was left alone with the young man.

"Now. There is your bath," Mizarh raised an eyebrow at him, seemingly curious. "Are you going to say thank you?"

"You didn't pour it," he replied, keeping his back to the man as he undressed.

"It is courteous to show gratitude when you are given something," the man replied, though his tone was increasingly playful.

"I don't often say thank you for headaches."

"Where are you from," he asked suddenly. Viserys ignored him and climbed into the scalding water. It was the most wonderful feeling to sink down beneath the surface, the heat caressing his skin. He emerged from the water, hair soaked and falling across his face. He was startled when he found Mizarh kneeling beside the bath and baffled when the young man began to wash his hair for him. Every touch was gentle and lulled him into a feeling of contentment.

"You are getting soap in my eyes," he drawled, determined to regain the power.

"Then close them," Mizarh replied, his lips brushing against Viserys' ear.

"I prefer to keep my enemies where I can see them." His heart beat in a panic when a hand snaked across his bare chest.

"Surely you can feel me."

The only thing he felt was Sickness. The heady scent of incense inflaming his nostrils, his tired eyes stinging with soapy water and his resolve fading.

"What will I be paid," he asked, his voice shaking. The hand stopped in its movement south. Viserys could feel the breath tickling his neck, lips brushing his pale skin.

"I can't say I know the going rate for a dragon."

His heart stopped.

"A...dragon?"

"Hair like this you could pass for dragonblood," Mizarh whispered with a laugh. "I imagine you'll have a high price. Plenty of people have fantasies about dragons. Your fiery nature could sell the whole thing, if you can make it believable."

"I am a dragon," Viserys replied.

"Very good. Keep going," he began to kneed the muscles in the young princes shoulders and though he tried to stop himself he groaned with the pleasurable touch.

"Relax," he kissed the back of his neck.

"I am of house Targaereyn, we are the last of the dragons."

"Good. Speak some Valeryan," Mizarh encouraged, enjoying the fantasy. Viserys almost obliged and had to catch himself.

"I do not know any."

"Nor me, make it up. This is what people will pay for, fantasy."

Viserys cringed as the man touched him more intimately than anyone ever had.

"Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor."

The hand stopped.

"Say that again."

"How could I," Viserys sneered. "You asked me to make it up."

"Are you hungry?"

Viserys pulled away and nodded, wrapping his arms around himself in disgust.

"I will bring you something to eat."

The man left abruptly and Viserys wasn't sure if he should climb out. There were no clothes besides his own so he left the bath and put them on, soaked through in minutes. He strained to listen as he heard whispers outside his door. Panic. Pure panic set in. He had given them both away in his arrogance.

"Hello, sweet one," the woman entered, simpering. "Forgive me, you must be famished. She shooed him over to a cushion and pressed him down into it. Mizarh carried with him a tray of meat and breads and Viserys ate hastily, afraid they would take it away. They watched him with fascination, Mizarh occasionally stroking his hair and encouraging him to eat and drink. They tray of cakes appeared once more.

"Mizarh tells me you are very good at impersonations," the woman said with a sickly smile, her heavily lined eyes blinking rapidly. "And we get all sorts of people with very...unusual tastes. Many are hungry for the fire of a dragon."

"The dragons are gone," Viserys replied, swallowing the food. "Everyone knows that."

"Yes, sweetling. That is why we call it a fantasy. You understand what that means?"

Viserys almost rolled his eyes.

"You wish me to act as a Targaeryen?"

They both looked at each other, joyous this was going as they wanted it to.

"People will pay a handsome fee for such a thing."

"And Dany will be untouched?"

They glanced to each other then.

"I will not go back on my word," she replied. That wasn't good enough for Viserys. Once there was a hint that she was in trouble they would leave but for now he enjoyed the comforting feeling of being clean.


	5. Chapter 5

_He was parched. Every attempt to swallow and relieve the pain caused a further tightening of his throat. He tried to ask for water but he couldn't form the words. His stomach heaved again and he curled in on himself whilst trying to wait for the nausea to pass. There was noise and moaning all around him. They had simply left him here in the corner, waiting for him to return to the realm of the sane. When he opened his eyes he was met with a blurry vision of one of the whores, panting with mock pleasure as she looked right at him. The man taking her looked at him too, biting down into her shoulder. Viserys flinched, feeling the sting of the marks in his own skin. He wanted to claw them away and be reborn into new flesh._

 _"Who is the runt," he heard someone ask and felt a nudge against his legs. He tried to shy away, feeling his organs twist and writhe in place. He had no clothes and tried to cover himself in the sheet. There was laughter and someone was stroking his hair._

 _"Pay for a night with the dragon, is that the idea?"_

 _"Each man to his own, that's all I say."_

 _Viserys held his eyes open as long as he could, catching sight of a blurry haze. They asked him questions. Words and such but they were lost to him._

 _"I wonder what they have done to his hair."_

 _"Never mind the hair, have you ever seen eyes like that? He must have dragon blood in there somewhere."_

 _"Aye, so does half of Pentos by now. You know how far Rhaegar spread around."_

 _"Rhaegar," he murmured happily._

 _"Gods, they've turned him mad."_

 _"Just like Aerys, eh boy?"_

 _He felt their hands all over his starved form as he was pulled this way and that. He couldn't hold himself up when they tried to encourage him into a sitting position. Suddenly there was a loud cry and the man rutting against the whore beside them finished. He tossed her aside as if she were nothing._

 _"How much for that one," he asked the keeper, wiping his seed from himself with a warm cloth provided._

 _"That depends."_

 _He tried to pull away but he felt light headed and the room swayed. Strong arms gripped him under the arms and he was pulled into someone's lap, slumped against them and drooling into their neck._

 _"On?"_

 _"You want him like this or when he wakes?"_

 _"Awake."_

 _"Follow me."_

 _The two men disappeared through the doorway. Viserys knew they intended to discuss a price. They never did that in front of them so they could never know what they were worth. The person holding him was gentle to him, a hand gently stroking his temple and an arm around his waist while he shook and squirmed in pain. He had thought it would be difficult to do this but he could never have imagined the brutality that would be inflicted on him. People desired a dragon to play with fire, to tame him using every silencer known to man. When they burned him, he pretended to scream, though now he knew how to make it convincing._

 _"I want to go home," he said, his words garbled and rough._

 _"You will," the kind person whispered in his ear._

 _"My home is gone."_

 _"Hush now, my King."_

 _A heavy fog descended over his mind and he felt himself falling into the impenetrable darkness._


	6. Chapter 6

Stepping over the rapidly spreading pool of blood, he quickly searched for any remaining possessions beneath tables and behind walls. He found it odd that there were none to find. He had been almost certain they would still hold some of the famed Targaereyn treasures. He had no time to continue looking however. Following behind him, Illyrio held the girl in his arms, her small form fitting easily as though she were a doll. He felt considerably bad for the dragon prince who although emaciated, was still a heavy load for the women of the brothel as they dragged him through blood. The sight evoked horrifying memories of white blonde hair soaked in crimson and he turned away. He could easily have stepped over the body of the traitor but instead he took a joyous pleasure in stepping on Mizarh's face.

"Death suits you," he smirked at the mutilated corpse.

"Have men no sense," his companion sighed, passing the little girl into the cart.

"Greed outweighs sense in every circumstance. I imagine he received a pricely sum in selling him," he said sadly as they manouvered Viserys into the cart alongside his sister. "I only hope something of the boy I knew remains. Go to Essos, meet them there and allow him to persuade you. My birds tell me he has become quite the negotiator. I must return now but I trust that you intend to follow our arrangement?"

"I will. How will I inform you of changes?"

"I will know."

"And if he refuses my help?"

"I imagine you know."

Illyrio nodded gravely, mounting his horse and giving the signal for their party to leave.

"He will try your patience," he called out after them, a sense of relief washing over him.

"You forget I knew Rhaegar," he called back before they disappeared around the next winding street.


	7. Chapter 7

Daenerys remained close to her brother as they walked through the winding streets. They had seemingly no direction, no goal besides that of staying in motion. She wished she could help him as he stumbled, his coordination off balance and his thoughts obviously clouded. They had awoken on the steps of the temple, red stone and ornate carvings vignetting her vision when she opened her eyes. The flagged stone was cool against her skin and cast her mind back to a time when she would play in the gardens at the grand white house. The last she remembered they had been at an Inn, kind women braiding her hair and whispering about how handsome they found her brother in the common tongue. She tried now to examine her brother in front of her from under her eyelashes. He was hurt, she could tell that much.

"We have to get it back," he mumbled to himself continually as they walked. Every street vendor they passed tempted them with new and delicious smells but they had no money left. Half of it having been taken from them and the other half hidden behind an ornate tapestry in the place they had been before. She began to wonder if Viserys had carried her while she slept and it seemed reasonable to assume given her brother's tired state and given that she was unfamiliar with the effect milk of the poppy can have.

"Perhaps there is a family near who could help us," she suggested. Viserys flinched and snarled at her.

"What do you think I am trying to find."

She remained silent then. It felt like hours of walking in the blistering heat when they stopped, Viserys looking at the building with equal mixture of joy and horror. He bid Daenerys to stay there as he approached the door, nervously smoothing his hair and brushing dust from his ragged clothes. The door opened and a young man spoke to Viserys before disappearing back into the house. He did not return, instead being replaced by an older man, rounded in the stomach who held a look of concern.

"Yes, what do you want," he said loudly. She could see Viserys bow his head, his fingers nervously picking at his nails. "We don't do charity," the man barked. He cast a cursory glance to Dany and she almost flinched. Stand like a dragon, she reminded herself, schooling her features the way Viserys often did, the way she imagined Rhaegar would.

"I am Viserys," her brother said simply.

She did not know who this man was but his features fell into quiet awe.

"That is impossible."

"This is my sister Daenerys."

"You do not know what you say," the man warned, angry now. "For if you knew the honour of the names you say you would not disgrace them with this mockery."

Dany noted the confusion evident in her brother from the way he stepped back an inch. It had been a long time from when someone had treated them with kindness.

"Away with you, go play at dragons elsewhere. I will not have your trickery here."

"I am Viserys Targaereyn," he brother drew himself up taller. He turned and motioned to her to join him.

"Daenerys stormborn, my sister."

Dany jumped a little when the man practically fell at their feet.

"My King! I believed you to be dead!"

"I intend to reclaim my throne," Viserys said, his tone wary of the simpering man. "However we are currently without lodging. Perhaps you could help us?"

"It would be my honour," he said as he stood, gesturing for them to enter the house. Something about the situation set her nerves on edge, why was he so accepting of two spectres? Regardless she followed into the cool and shaded hallway of his home.


	8. Chapter 8

All of his life, doors had been closed to him. From the moment Rhaegar breathed his last, Viserys became 'The Last Hope'. Pulled away from the mother they suspected would murder him, hidden away from potential enemies; Viserys had no friends and no allies. Caged within his chambers his only frequent guest was his father who gave him presents of riddles and a sharp slap to each cheek. Until the night of the Storm, when light had burned his eyes in scorching flashes. The screaming bundle was placed in his arms and he felt a happiness he was unfamiliar with. Daenerys, his sister and his queen. At last, someone he could share things with and someone to warm his heart. Now she too remained behind a door as rough hands pulled him away. He didn't want to hurt her, never hurt her.

"Daenerys," he called, hoping she would hear him through the raging fog of his drunken mind. He was going to sell her tomorrow just like everything else. Someday he would place a crown upon her golden locks and they would be home. They would be free. For now, he realised, he was the one thing chaining her.


End file.
